


Wine Tainted Nights

by Aspireeverything



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Attractive Grantaire, Drunk Enjolras, Fluff, M/M, drunk!jolras, enjolras drunk is probably one of my favorite tropes okay, enjolras is the drunk one for once, it's super fluffy okay, just leave my headcanons concerning grantaire be okay, there needs to be more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspireeverything/pseuds/Aspireeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he was far more sober and a lot less exhausted, he probably would have realized immediately that he wasn’t in his own apartment. </p><p>or the one where Enjolras gets super drunk and breaks into his hot new neighbor's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine Tainted Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This is based heavily off #15 off this post: http://tell-themstories.tumblr.com/post/101516929039/taken-from-several-au-posts-credited-at-the-end
> 
> As always, all mistakes are unfortunately my own and if you spot one please let me know!  
> Thanks for reading and please tip your writer in the form of kudos/comments!

There are a lot of reasons why Enjolras doesn’t drink, why usually exempts himself from the usual late night shenanigans the rest of his friends usually get themselves into.

But like everyone else, Enjolras is human. Sometimes he feels the need to unwind, to let all the muscles in his body relax, to let his usually filled to the brim mind clear up. And sometimes he just needs to have a damn drink.

So that’s what he did.

He had allowed Courferyac to drag him into the apartment he shared with Combeferre one floor up and took a glass of wine in his hand and let it be refilled several times over a course of a few hours while they watched shitty Netflix documentaries. It was far from his usual Friday night, but he thought he deserved it. He didn’t keep up a very active social life no matter how much he wanted to. There was just too much going on, from university, to his internship at a locally renowned newspaper, to holding weekly Les Amis meetings and organizing rallies.

He’s just one man with too much on his plate and for once, he had stepped out of the usual realms of his own characterization and he had decided to unwind with cheap wine and two of his best friends.

So here he was, after a few minutes of slurring words at Courferyac in the form of an attempted argument, he was dragging himself down the hall and to the elevator so he could sleep off the drinks in his own bed. He could have just taken the offer that his two friends had mentioned and just slept on their couch, but he overestimated his own sobriety. They had tried to keep him in place in order to keep him out of trouble and possible embarrassment, but Enjolras’s stubbornness wouldn’t allow that to occur. It was only up one floor after all and drunk or not, he was very much capable of getting upstairs and into his own apartment without any help, _thank you very much_.

The world swayed and blurred around the corners as he shuffled down the far too brightly lit hall and as he tried a few times to press the button to the elevator. He missed spectacularly his first few attempts, but on his final try he all but punched the idiotic button and it lit up red. He let out a content noise and leaned against the pale colored wall to hold himself upright until the familiar ding of the elevator signaled and the doors opened.

He dragged his body into the elevator and squinted at the rows of buttons until he found one that looked close enough to the floor he was trying to get to. The doors slid shut and a few seconds later they opened once again, Enjolras almost tripping out of it.

He turned right down the still too brightly lit hallway- _god why did people insist on turning these lights on the brightest fucking option-_ and found the familiar white door to his apartment. He patted his pockets absently, his eyes threatening to slide closed as he tried to locate his key. Enjolras groaned when he realized that the key was nowhere to be found and hit his forehead against the cold of the door.

The drunken idea occurred to him that maybe he forgot to lock his apartment door, as he did more often than he’d ever admit. He entertained the idea, reaching for the door knob and turning it. It turned fully, allowing him access into the apartment. He let out a tired and breathy, “ _Yaaay_ ” before stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

If he was far more sober and a lot less exhausted, he probably would have realized immediately that he wasn’t in his own apartment. But that not being the case, Enjolras only yawned and toed off his shoes, not bothering with the lights. Which is really weird because he knew (at least he was pretty sure) that he didn’t flip a switch, but the living room lights flicked on anyways which caused Enjolras to startle at the sudden change from dark to light.

“Who the hell are you and how did you get into my apartment?” A voice said with a slight tremor. Enjolras’s gaze landed on a man clad only in blue checkered boxers, his dark, curled hair all over the place, and with a bat in his hands that he held in a defensive position as if he was ready to attack any second.

Enjolras looked around the room now that it was actually illuminated and something suddenly clicked in his still very drunk, very out of it mind. “This is not my apartment,” he grumbled, squinting at everything in the room that was very much not his. The room was sparsely furnished with opened and unopened boxes alike littered throughout the spacious living area. There was also a stack of canvases beside an easel placed in front of one of the larger windows, a sheet covering the large canvas placed on the wooden easel.

The man lowered his bat slightly, watching the other man look around the room with a confused look on his face. He seemed harmless enough and definitely was drunk out of his mind so after a few seconds he leaned the bat against one of the cream colored walls and sighed. “Do you even live in this building?”

Enjolras turned his attention to the stranger and felt a warmth spread throughout his stomach as his drunken mind processed the person in front of him. The man was slightly shorter than he was, with dark stubble on his tan cheeks, and impossibly bright blue eyes that only made his already pleasant looking face all the more better. He was well built, probably from sports his hazy mind supplied, something his limited amount of clothing showed off beautifully.

Enjolras didn’t even realize he hadn’t answered the question until the other man said, “Hello? Did you hear what I said?” He snapped back into his blurred reality and responded with a slightly annoyed and definitely slurred, “Of course I live in this building, you can’t even get in without a key thingy thing.”

“You mean a key code?”

“Yeah that thing,” Enjolras waved his hand dismissively, already bored by this.

The man raised an eyebrow and crossed his muscular arms across his bare chest, watching Enjolras with an unidentifiable look in his eyes. It made him want to reach out and run his pale hands across this stranger’s skin, causing his fingers to twitch, but he managed to keep that urge at bay.

“Even so, you probably shouldn’t go breaking into people’s apartments. I could be some insane serial killer for all you know.”

“And you should lock your doors.” Enjolras lifted his hand and pointed his finger in an accusing manner, his face scrunched up. He swayed slightly where he stood, but managed not to fall over. His tongue felt heavy and tasted bitter in his mouth. “Also how do you know _I’m_ not some serial killer?” Enjorlas hiccupped as he finished his sentence, trying his best to look menacing, but failing horribly.

The man laughed, uncrossing his arms. The laugh was warm and it only made Enjolras’s stomach tighten in a knot. “You’re pretty drunk right now so I’m willing to bet that the only harm you might cause me is puking on my floor.”

Enjolras moved to step forward to get another word in, but the world swayed too much and he almost fell to the ground, the alcohol and exhaustion weighing down on him suddenly. Before he could hit the ground, strong hands gripped his arms, holding him up. The touch was warm and steady, sending chills down Enjolras’s arms. “Whoa there,” the stranger said, keeping him upright. “Let’s not hurt ourselves right now.” They pair moved slowly before the dark haired man placed Enjolras gently on the couch and disappeared for a few seconds.

The man reappeared as quickly as he left, this time with a soft looking pillow and equally as comfortable looking sheets in tow. “You’re far too drunk to get anywhere at the moment and I have a feeling that you have no idea where your apartment even is right now so you can stay here for the night.” He placed the sheets and pillow on the couch. “I promise I won’t disturb you or kill you in your sleep, I’ll even leave the bat here with you if that makes you more comfortable. I just don’t want to throw you out of here in your condition. God knows what kind of trouble you’ll get yourself into. And I’m certainly not in the mood of trying to even find your apartment, especially not at this time of night.”

Enjolras blinked tiredly at the man, trying his best to process everything. He was fine staying on this guy’s couch. The couch seemed really comfortable and those sheets and pillow looked as inviting as ever.

Besides, Enjolras liked this guy. He was nice looking, not to mention nice smelling (something he had realized when the man helped is him stay upright), and he was kind. Kind enough that he was letting Enjolras, a completely drunk and ‘incapable of standing upright on his own’ stranger, sleep on his couch.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he slurred, grabbing the pillow and placing it on one end of the couch and laying his head down on it. He struggled with the sheets slightly and he heard a small laugh next to him before the man helped him arrange the sheets on top of him properly.

The man stepped back once he finished helping and looked down at Enjolras with a look that almost seemed fond. “Just one request,” the man said. Enjolras hummed in reply, his eyes already threatening to shut any second. “If you’re going to puke, please do so _not_ on my floor.”

“Mmhhmm,” Enjolras eyes finally slid closed, only answering half-heartedly.

He heard another small laugh. “Goodnight Apollo.”

Before Enjolras could protest the sudden use of the new nickname, padded steps were already fading down the hallway and the lights were turned off. A door quietly opened then shut, leaving Enjolras alone.

He only snuggled closer to the pillow and pulled the warm sheets tighter around him, inhaling the clean scent of laundry detergent and a faint smell of cologne before drifting off to sleep.

***

“Oh my god _why_ ,” Enjolras whined. He blinked blearily and rubbed his face as he woke up, his eyes adjusting and trying to blink away any leftover drunken haze and sleep. His eyes settled and that’s when he realized he wasn’t anywhere familiar. He sat up suddenly, the ache in his head and behind his eyes protesting painfully. His mouth tasted disgusting and the nausea in the pit of his stomach grew quickly.

“I take it you don’t remember then?” A voice behind him startled him. Enjolras turned around, seeing a very disheveled looking man whose dark curls were wild and who was distractingly shirtless. 

“Who are you?” Enjolras asked, rubbing the sides of his head to try to ease the awful headache pounding away.

“I’m Grantaire and I just moved in a few days ago. I didn’t realize the welcoming party would be a very intoxicated, attractive man breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night.”

Enjolras groaned into his hands from the sheer embarrassment of the memories from the previous night as they began trickling back into his head. “I am _so_ sorry that you had to witness that. I also apologize greatly for breaking into your apartment and sleeping on your couch.” He looked back up to see Grantaire just grinning at him as if something was particularly hilarious, also still distractingly shirtless.

“It’s not a big deal. I’m the one who offered for you to sleep here in the first place, also it was pretty amusing to say the least.” Grantaire ran a hand through his already unruly curls, only serving to dishevel them more. Enjolras gulped, taking in the man in front of him. He noticed various tattoos coloring the man’s gorgeously toned body as well as flecks of paint on his arms. The man was gorgeous to say the least, definitely something his drunken mind picked up on its own the night before. At least in his awful state the night before, he managed to strike gold in apartment residents.

“I didn’t manage to catch your name, mysterious hung-over man.” Grantaire’s previous grin turned into a smirk, his tone teasing and definitely playful.

“I’m Enjolras,” he stated simply, watching the other man test the pronunciation quietly to himself, the smirk still dancing on his lips.

“Well hello Enjolras.” His own name on Grantaire’s lips made Enjolras’s stomach do some strange sort of flip and his heart flutter against his ribcage. “Can I interest you in some painkillers, breakfast, and possibly a date in the near future?”

“Yes, yes, and _definitely_ yes.”

 


End file.
